Chapter 152: Do You Suspect Patrick Isn’t Dead?

Rose said, "After three days of injections to prevent a miscarriage, the bleeding has improved significantly."

Lydia sighed in relief.

Anne had recommended this hospital.

Charlotte, who had just gone to get some water, returned with a cup and handed it to her daughter.

"Lydia, you chartered a private jet to bring us here. Now, you’re giving me money to cover Rose’s hospital stay? Where did you get all this money?”

Her mother’s question stumped Lydia.

All of this money came from the $10,000 Ethan had given her earlier.

But she didn’t have much cash left.

Lydia’s lips moved slightly, and she whispered, "I...I secretly saved up some money, Mom. It’s the money I’ve been saving over the years.”

Seeing how guilty Lydia looked, Rose didn’t believe her story about "secret savings."

Charlotte smiled and tapped her daughter’s nose. "Well, you actually dared to hide pocket money from Mom. Just how many other things are you and your Dad keeping from me?"

Lydia’s eyes stung, and she quickly waved her hands. "That's it, Mom. I promise this is the only thing.”

Charlotte glanced around the ward and said, "The hospital has strict rules—only one person is allowed to stay as a caregiver. I can sleep here for the next couple of days. But Lydia, you need to find a hotel.”

Lydia nodded. "Okay, I'll find a hotel close to the hospital."

On St. Island, it was 9:45 p.m.

Ethan strode out of the airport’s VIP lounge.

A dark coat was draped over his shoulders, and the breeze stirred up by his footsteps was chilly.

Boris was feeling frustrated.

Miss Hayes hadn’t boarded the flight to New Zealand.

How could she have slipped away right under his nose?

They searched the plane and the airport, but she was nowhere to be found.

He tentatively asked, "Mr. Edwards, why don't we look around the airport some more? Maybe Miss Hayes is hiding in the restroom?”

Ethan tilted his head slightly and glanced at him.

He slipped on his sunglasses with his long fingers and said, "How many times have you checked the women's restrooms already? Does it feel good to be called a pervert?”

Boris asked cautiously, "Then...should we stop looking?"

Ethan stopped in his tracks.

His blue eyes, hidden behind the sunglasses, held a gaze that was both obsessive and intense. "Even if she burns to ashes, I'll drag her back."

Boris felt a chill run down his spine.

He shuddered and hurried to catch up. “Where exactly did Miss Hayes hide? It looks like they planned this escape a long time ago.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Could they have switched to a different mode of transportation to get to New Zealand?”

Before Ethan could respond, he turned to leave. "I'm going to notify our people across Eastern Europe so we can search for Miss Hayes together."

“Come back!”

Ethan called out to him in a deep voice.

Boris froze and turned back. “Mr. Edwards, didn’t you say we were supposed to look for her?”

Ethan narrowed his blue eyes. "Of course we have to find her, but we can't just run around aimlessly."

Boris looked completely baffled.

Ethan shot him a glance, then set off with long strides.

"I haven't heard of her having any relatives or friends there. She bought that plane ticket but didn’t use it. She likely did it on purpose to throw us off the scent,” he analyzed.

Boris was taken aback. "Has Miss Hayes become this shrewd all of a sudden?"

Ethan let out a cold laugh.

He’d taught her to see the complexity of the world.

“Good girl, don’t let Uncle catch you.”

Ethan twisted the bracelet tightly between his fingers, then turned to Boris. "Have the bank keep an eye on it. The black card I’d give her had an unlimited limit. As soon as she uses it, we’ll be able to track her down.”

Boris couldn’t help but admire him.

That was a brilliant plan!

As soon as Miss Hayes used Mr. Edwards’s card, they’d be able to pinpoint her location immediately.

Ethan stepped into the Rolls-Royce.

Once he was settled, he asked, “What about Jasper? Still no sign of Patrick’s body?”

“No word from Jasper yet.”

Boris pressed the communicator to his ear and called Jasper, who was searching the river valley near the railroad black market for Patrick’s body.

Jasper tugged irritably at his raincoat, but it couldn't keep the rain from pouring down on his head.

He cursed under his breath. "Damn, the fucking rainy season."

He’d led his team up and down the river valley for four days.

“Call it off! Let's pull out!"

Back at his luxury apartment in downtown St. Island, he ripped off his raincoat and tossed his rain boots aside in disgust.

At the apartment entrance, the car came to a smooth stop right in front of the door.

Ethan pushed open the car door with his long fingers, bent his long leg, and hit the ground first with his black leather boot.

“Mr. Edwards.”

The maids curtsied hurriedly and stepped aside, clearing a path for him.

Ethan removed his sunglasses and held them lazily in his hand.

His blue eyes seemed devoid of emotion.

The maids didn’t dare breathe, holding their breath.

Ever since Lydia left, this luxury apartment had reverted to its former lifeless, icy state.

Jasper, soaking wet, followed Ethan inside and stood in front of the sofa.

Ethan casually tossed his sunglasses onto the coffee table, crossed his legs, and leaned back on the sofa. “Where’s Patrick’s body?”

Jasper swallowed hard before speaking. "We haven't found it."

"You've been looking for four days and still haven't found it?"

Ethan’s hand, which was holding the pack of cigarettes, paused. “Did that old geezer Patrick’s body run away?”

Jasper wiped the rainwater from his face. “I sent people to comb the area upstream and downstream along the river at least ten times, but his body was nowhere to be found.”

Ethan narrowed his blue eyes.

The veins on the back of his hand stood out as he slowly pulled a cigarette from his pack.

Click!

His lighter flared with a blue flame.

“It hasn’t stopped raining on St. Island these past few days. If there really were a body, it would’ve already floated to the surface. There’s no way we wouldn’t have found it.” He exhaled a puff of smoke.

Jasper looked up at him. “Mr. Edwards, are you saying that Patrick isn’t dead?”

Ethan tossed aside the lighter, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "That old geezer has got a lot more up his sleeve."

It was raining heavily in the river valley.

The water level kept rising, and the air was thick with the damp, earthy smell of mud.

A man popped his head out of the water and took a deep breath.